Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil.
Chapter 2: This Is The Last Time
"Oh when I lift you up you feel like a hundred times yourself. I wish everybody knew what's so great about you. Oh, but your love is such a swamp, you don't think before you jump, and I said I wouldn't get sucked in."
There were many things that distinguished Claire Redfield from other women. She was bruised, battered, and worn away by time. She was cautious, sharp, and paranoid. She was dangerous, cunning, and you didn't want her to have a gun in her hands. Aside from all of these things, she was fragile in the night, prone to nightmares that suffocated her sleep. She would toss and turn, bury her face in her pillows, clutch the sheets as if she was hanging on for dear life. The only comfort she sought would be the unyielding safety of Wesker's arms around her, holding her form against his own. He would silence her sleep-talk, the ones where she would mutter "no" over and over and over again as it were a hymn on her lips. She never told him what she dreamt so vividly about but he assumed it was her imagination replaying Raccoon City, Rockfort Island, Harvardville, and countless other events in her life that plagued her. He would never ask her to tell him about them.
Because of these acts of solace he granted her, Wesker found himself sucked into her lifestyle so easily it felt as though he was hypnotized. But he digressed, this is what he wanted. Oddly enough, he longed for this kind of life… a simple one with someone he cared for. They lived in a small house secluded from the city below. A mountain home with acres of lands and that white picket fence that everyone always dreams of. They had a doberman named Archibald, Archie for short. Sherry named him at her request. The days were spent working from home but sometimes Wesker was on the road for months at a time. The nights were sometimes spent as restless as this one, with Claire submerged in her nightmares.
She tossed around to Wesker who gently pushed her when she began to mutter incoherent words. Her face was twisted into an expression of fear and pain, one that he had witnessed himself one too many times. Her hands were balled into fists against his bare chest and she unconsciously scooted closer towards him.
"Chris please…" The words were almost inaudible, a desperate plea in the dark.
Wesker stroked her hair in attempt to soothe her.
"Albert no… no, no, no…"
There were the "no's" again, Wesker thought to himself. However, this time it was different. She had never once spoken his name before in her sleep. Only her brothers and occasionally that boy Steve Burnside.
"I'm right here, Claire." Wesker said aloud, pressing her closer to his chest. "I'll always be right here."
A/N: Thanks for reading! -This Is The Last Time by The National.-